Who is in Control?
by FandomAngstQueen
Summary: Part One in my Teen Wolf Saga. 'Stiles footsteps wandered the hallways, shrouded black with shadows leering around each corner. He's been following an invisible source, drawn to a supernatural presence then stopped at a door spilling with white energy. He reached out a hand, then recoiled, remembering. The last time he'd opened a door, he'd jeopardised lives.'


**A/N Hey there, it has been a long time since I uploaded anything on here. But once again that unknown courage to publish what I love doing the most has returned once again. Just a few notes to add; One) This is the first part in a long well saga of Teen Wolf fanfictions all of which are inspired by music. Two) Some information may be seen as incorrect and may anger some. If this happens, I apologise and I will get round to changing it. Three) I realise that you are supposed to indent lines and paragraphs but speaking from personal experience, it is simpler to read stories (especially on mobile devices) in this block paragraph format.**

 **I would appreciate no flames please for everything including Grammar and Spelling. My main concern is that the characters are 'in character' Many thanks.**

 **There are two disclaimers.**

 **First Disclaimer: Nothing but the writing is owned by me. All characters go to Teen Wolf and the respective creator.**

 **Second Disclaimer: This particular piece was inspired by Halsey's Control. I do not own this song or title.**

 **Sorry for boring you and thanks for reading**

 **Rated T, For descriptions of blood and mild violence. To be on the safe side. Also for Voids sadistic self.**

* * *

First Part:

 **Who is in Control?**

Stiles footsteps wandered the hallways, shrouded black with shadows leering around each corner. He's been following an invisible source, drawn to a supernatural presence then stopped at a door spilling with white energy. He reached out a hand, then recoiled, remembering. The last time he'd opened a door, he'd jeopardized lives. With a shake is his head and clench of his fists, he walked in the opposite direction.

He found himself at the doorway to his room. Confused, he turned back, the white had gone. His body willed him further. The bed creaked as he sat on the corner as he'd done in Eichen. He'd spent endless nights awake, staring at the black outside. Only when the sun turned in, did he realise he'd spent another night awake. His mind was sinking further, dwelling into the depths of chaos, strife and pain. He gripped a steel bar above his head to steady himself as the swaying began. There was an anchor in his chest, dragging him down.

The bed creaked as he perched on the corner, like in Eichen, staring without really seeing the happenings from outside his window. Only when the sun turned in, did he realise he'd not slept another night. His mind was sinking further, dwelling into depths of chaos, strife and pain. He gripped the bar to his bead, steadying himself as he felt the anchor tug at him. Eyes wide, he clenched them shut and roared.

"Wake Up Stiles!" His yells echoed around him.

A howl jarred his senses, forcing his eyes open. His best friend, chest covered in blood, holding the corpse of Allison in his arms. The sight shocked him. He stumbled back, catching himself on a warm body.

"Isaac?" Stiles questioned. Surprised at the Beta's appearance.

"Why Stiles? Is it because Scott saw her first?" He asked him in the sincerest and heartbroken tone Stiles had heard the usually negative wolf speak.

"No, Isaac this-I didn't- "He stumbled over his words but before he could form a coherent sentence, a woman caught his gaze. She was beautiful with glowing blue eyes and fair brunette locks.

"Malia?"

Her eyes locked onto his and she drew back her lips into a snarl, "You lied to me Stiles,"

"No- Malia it was to protect you-" He was cut off by her growl, "No Stiles. You lied. I never want to see you again" She flashed her claws at him, ripping them down his chest, tearing at the fabric, reaching skin.

She stopped halfway, gripping a wound in her side; Stiles moved to catch her and lower her to the ground, "Malia, what…" he trailed off when he saw three long claw marks, embedded deeply into her skin. It was then he remembered the last person she saw, "Malia, did-did Peter do this to you?"

She turned her head to ignore him.

"Malia, he's bad- I told you-you can't trust him!" Stiles expressed, pressing down to staunch the bleeding until her healing kicked in.

"I can't trust you anymore Stiles," She whispered.

"What? Malia talk to me. What can I do? Tell me what I can do to fix this," he pleaded, feeling his heart crack.

"Give in," she forced out.

"Malia…" he trembled.

Malia continued, "He needs you Stiles. You can't let him in"

"I won't I promise," Staring into her fearful orbs.

"Promise?" She struggled.

"I really do," Stiles was sobbing now, "Malia, I need you to stay awake, please. We'll both stay awake"

"Love…iles…tell-tell…," black blood sprayed onto her lips as her chest constricted. He gripped her shoulders and shook them "No, no, no, no MALIA! Malia!" Her limb hand went slack to the ground.

His friends shadow appeared behind him, "Scott, oh god Scott please you have to help me!" Stiles pleaded with Alpha. Maybe Malia could be saved.

The Alpha stared at the were coyote in disgust, "Why, now you know how it feels," Scott didn't stop, "I have Kira now. But I HAD Alison. I lost her because of you"

"Scott, I know you did but-" Stiles was cut off.

"Malia was a good friend. We won't forget her," Scott bowed his head at Malia.

"Scott, how could you just-just let her die," Stiles looked at him in agony.

"She died long ago Stiles," Scott told him, flashing his red eyes at him in warning.

Stiles was undeterred, "What do you mean?"

Scott walked away. He followed him, his tone raised, "Scott, what do you mean?!"

"I'll find where you are," Scott responded with a blank expression. Stiles reached out to snatch his jacket only to be met with stale air. His knees collapsed to the ground, pulling his emotionally battered body with it. He crawled to where he left Malia, Scott had taken Allison long ago. Only one lifeless body remained in Oak Creek.

Staring into the young woman's face stalled the pain of his flesh wounds. His heartbreak evident as his tears dripped onto her pale skin.

"Don't…leave," he begged through a sob.

"I asked you not to do something Stiles," he looked up quickly from the ground to stare at Lydia's expression.

"Lydia what-?"

Then it hit him, "Lydia, you didn't scream"

She cocked her head to the side, making circular motions with her hands for him to elaborate.

"Y-you didn't scream. You're a banshee you predict death. You didn't scream- Malia's alive she- she has to be!" he turned to Malia, pulling her into his arms, feeling for a breath, for pulse. Supernatural beings must have a longer window of life surely.

"You didn't listen to me Stiles," her voice cracked. Her eyes shone with tears. It wasn't long before her sobs echoed in his ears.

"Lydia, what is going on?!" He boomed, depositing his girlfriend gently to the ground, "Save her!"

"Why didn't you listen to me?" She turned on him. She cried harder, her tears dragging down the mascara, consuming her face in black.

"Lydia, what's wrong? Why won't you save her?" Stiles head was spinning as a new scream echoed into his ears.

"Stiles, please don't!"

The scream was Lydia's but it didn't come from her. He looked at the strawberry blonde but her gaze rested on another image, her eyes unmoving as she pointed to the ghost. Lydia detached herself from the confused boy and walked away.

"Lydia?"

"Stiles, please, close the door," He turned to the other being, which had morphed into Lydia's features. Stiles felt his mind screaming, trying to fix the pieces that refused to slot together. This woman was clothed in a pinkish nighty, Stile's duvets pooled at her waist with a pleading gaze.

"Close what door Lydia? I didn't open the door!" Stiles asked confused, looking around the room for a sign of a door. Only realising that Oak Creek had vanished to be replaced with his own room again. He searched for Malia's body but there was no trace of it.

Lydia's gaze went through him. It was empty corner, "Stiles…"

"Lydia, I'm telling you I didn't open the door," He insisted, gesturing to the empty space.

Tears cascaded down her cheeks. Her sobs albeit muted, sent a pang at his heart.

"No, but I did," a familiar voice breathed down his neck.

Dark eyes snapped open wildly, searching for the voice but found nothing. That was two bullets, a third and he would personally visit a check-up from Melissa.

"Lydia?" He called out to her.

No answer.

* * *

He hadn't paid much attention to his surroundings. Lydia wasn't in his room; he wasn't in his room. He was in the cold air, trees obscuring his path from ground to sky. He looked around confused as to where he was. He continued walking, the brisk air chilling at his bones, much like his own voice had.

"Hello?" he called out, hoping for a response, "Can someone tell me where I am?"

The wind gusted him to the side, Stiles wrapped his jacket closer to himself, conserving warmth with the dying light. A light that had shone bright not two seconds before.

Had he spent another night awake?

Did it matter?

He took another step forward when he heard a crunch, "H-hello?"

"When is a door not a door, Stiles?" A familiar voice asked.

In the break of trees, the masculine voice had asked him. He peered through the fog to be met with a male with dark hair and a cocky smirk.

"Theo," he ground out.

"Void"

"That's not my name," Stiles stood his ground.

"Not yet, but soon"

Stiles for once did not reply, too shaken with memories to even consider it.

"Aw come Stiles, you didn't think I didn't know about you guys? You were possessed by the nogitsune. A powerful leader, I want that power. I want you in my pack," Theo confessed.

Stiles scoffed, momentarily forgetting the nightmarish figures, "We've already had this conversation you Jackass. I'm part of Scott's pack"

"Really? Last I saw you two weren't doing so great," Theo sucked in his breath, "Remember, you have innocents blood on your hands"

The horrified glance turned to him, "H-how?"

"-I know everything about you Stiles"," Theo explained. Although Stiles was sure he'd already told him. The Raeken boy was apparently going along with whatever he said.

"This isn't real," Stiles stated, waiting for Theo.

"What?" Theo turned to him, "You deluded Stilinski?"

Stiles ignored him turning to stare at his finger, "One…two…three…four…f-five-"

"What the hell are you doing?" The boy grabbed at his other wrist before Stiles could resume counting.

"Back off!" He screamed, struggling with Theo's iron grip held his wrists apart.

"Remember what you did," Theo pushed him against a tree trunk.

"No," Stiles refused, wincing as the bark scraped at his claw wounds.

"I said…. REMEMBER WHAT YOU DID?!" he screamed, forcing Stiles back. Stiles lithe form was pushed onto the inner trunk. His head collided with the hollow core. The hands disappeared, allowing him to sit up half way before blinding lights of his jeep flashed. Stiles was wrenched back.

"I brought a reminder since you won't remember," Theo pointed from behind Stiles' shoulder to a body impaled by a pale, crusted with blood. The corpse, Donovan, hanging with a stained mouth.

"I know you remember Stiles," the boy taunted, moving from his neck to his feet. Stiles attempted to sit up but found roots had latched onto his wrists.

Not roots, hands drenched a black liquid and clawing up his chest, locking around his neck. He didn't have time to scream for Donovan was above him.

"He told me to after someone Stilinski loves…that was you…," Donovan's voice screeched, shaking the boy beneath him. He conjured his mark; a circular shape with spikes gnashing at the skin, hungry for prey.

"Don't worry Stiles…," Donovan glanced from his face to his legs, now pinned in hands, "I'll just eat your legs!"

Stiles rocked his body in an attempt to pull off his attacker.

Th-theo!" he regretted crying out for him.

"Where's Void Stiles?!" Theo launched at the two, pausing the others actions.

"What?"

"Where's. Void. Stiles?" Theo ground out, moving the cannibal to the side, gripping his hair back and slamming it hard on the tree trunk. One of the hands, slipping from his chest to his mouth and nose. Stiles smelt the rotting flesh, blood and mud with one inhale.

The hand pressed down, asphyxiating. In a second black had begun to rush in. He felt unbridled pain coursing through his body. It was an agonising, burning pain as though fire had begun to spread over his body.

It burnt.

"Leave him. Void will come soon enough," The angered teenager left Stiles, dragging Donovan's leash with him.

Stiles tried to move but the hands still pressed down. He flinched at the heat he could feel then his eyes widened.

"P-Parrish?" the fire was around him. It's maker above him.

He was carrying bodies, too black and charred for him to see which. He lay them on each side of him. Their hands latching onto his throat, cutting off any screams.

"Where are you Stiles?" The former deputy asked him, sprinkling mountain after mountain of coal coloured ash over him.

The black melded away, replaced with a white ceiling, shadows elongating, indicating the night sky drawing near. He turned his head to meet a corner desk, using it to pull himself up.

A wince crossed his face and he put his hand behind his head to find the source. A trail of blood trickled down his palm.

"Must've fallen asleep…or knocked myself out," he figured. He stood up to full height, mindful of the spinning. He half expected to see his dad in the doorway, hesitant but ready to offer help.

Instead he was met with another board; mapping out issues, tied with red to various notes and photos. Like his imaginative Theo had requested, Stiles reluctantly remembered.

This caused a chain reaction of movements, it started with the racing mind, then evolved into pacing. He's drug himself from the dark Void in small inches but it was progress. The nightmares of his friends placing guilt and leaving him as they died on his account rocking his core. It seemed like Scott, he too was cursed. He'd ground his feet into the corners of his room as his mind worked, skidding his feet across the floorboards, leaving grooves of frustration.

He remembered gripping the chalk, scribbling frantically then scrubbing it furiously, returning to the board until finally he snapped.

His rage, it burnt his hand. The nogitsune pounding inside him, beginning to be released. Too vulnerable to protest more.

He hated the Nogitsune, but he hated himself more for liking it, exhilarated and refreshed by the power that pulsed through him. Every scream, every memory of agony was delicious. He breathed it in and released more hurt to the world. His body moved to stand before the mirror, he wiped away the dust and stared back at himself, expecting to see a skinny boy with dishevelled hair from his constant anxious combing.

He saw worse.

A skinny creature, with half a face crumbling while the other consuming his warm eyes to black, it was feral, almost animalistic the smirk that toyed him. Encouraging him to release it.

'That's Void Stiles!' the memory taunted.

He shook his violently from the words. No. He was not returning. He would stay buried for as long as Stile's friends lived. He turned behind him, anything to stop staring at the taunting reflection. The bed looked inviting, heck he hadn't had a proper sleep in weeks. All was quiet, he could sleep, just a while. Slowly his expression of longing turned to one of hatred. Materialising before him was his dark reflection.

A gust of relief left him at the still trapped creature. Then looked back at the bed where he swore the figure had waved then slipped off into dust.

The Trickster was still playing his tricks.

'What if it's just another trick?' Lydia's voice echoed into his mind.

'No more tricks Lydia' Another ground out.

'You died. You can never come back. Not until I find out where you are," that voice. It wasn't his.

"Stiles?" the voice called again.

"STILES!" Two more joined in.

"Dude, wake up!" Something was ragging at his shoulder. He opened his eyes, not realising he'd even had them closed.

"Is he still doing that?" a woman's voice cut in. He blinked away sleep to see the library ceiling and four concerned and amused eyes staring down at him.

"Hey dude, you okay?" Scott was in front of him, pulling him up by the arm, steadying him.

"Oh uh sorry, what was that?" Stiles managed.

"You alright dude? You've been really spacing out lately," Scott asked with a look of concern, mirroring the rest of his pack who crowded around the library space. Books and laptops open and learning tools scattered over the table.

"Oh yeah, yeah, no it's fine. It's all good," Stiles repeated, wiping his sweaty palms on his knees trying to force his heart to steady.

"Really, I think the whole neighbourhood just heard you scream," Isaacs sarcastic response came.

"Scream?" he repeated. Before Scott or Lydia could enlighten him another's voice, more angelic but with an edged tone called him.

"Stiles?" he responded to the voice instantly. Eyes glistening in relief at his girlfriend with her mouth and hands holding multi-coloured highlighters for the books already suffered vandalism with her unique colour coding.

"You're ali-"he stopped himself, accepting the comfort. Relieved to feel her touch under his skin, her warm breathing skin.

"What?"

"Nothing just commenting on how beautiful you look," Stiles covered up, giving her his look of utter adoration. She rolled her eyes, twirling the highlighter in between her fingers. He moved closer, holding one of her hands as she concentrated.

He really needed to relax.

They were all there-

His own guilt was weighing his mind- sending him on a one-way ticket to Eichen house and this time for longer than seventy-two-hour watch or visit.

He counted the occupants around him; Scott. Lydia. Malia. Kira and Liam. No Alison or Isaac, how could there possibly be have been when they- they moved on.

"I thought we'd moved past that. We can't go back to that again," Stiles whispered to himself in frustration.

Stiles screwed his eyes, clamping his hands over his ears as more voices not his own flooded his ears. Each of them speaking too fast for him to process them.

 _"_I liked it"_

 _"-it would devastate me if-"_

 _"-I don't care anymore-"_

 _"I'll find you"_

 _"-This isn't you…. this isn't you"_

 _"-Divine move…Divine move"_

 _"-"Do for him what your friend cannot"_

 _"-It Is now"_

 _"-What if it's just another trick?!"_

 _"Anything?"_

Then it stopped at the final words, "Remember Stiles. We, I am a thousand years old. You can't kill me"

"I did once," he automatically responded to the demon wearing his face. "That isn't me"

"It is now," the two repeated before black engulfed him again.

The pain, it brought him back. Shards of glass littered the tiled flooring and splatters of red sunk into the cracks beside the sink.

"Aah," he uttered, turning to his hands. They were bloody with glass embedded in some fingers but Stiles looked past that. His palm shook as he forced himself to concentrate. He counted, finally exhaling at ten.

"So THIS is real," Stiles confirmed. His guilt ridden mind might actually end up killing him one day, Stiles thought. Spotting the wipes and loo roll, he torn off some pieces, dipped them in water and began to clean the incisions. Sitting on the ground beside a kit, holing tweezers to gently extract the shards.

Once he had finished and his hands no longer looked like he'd rammed them through a glass cabinet, he went to open the door. Something caught him. Cold and thin wrapped around his wrist, he looked to the source and almost screamed.

"No…" he whispered. He'd counted his fingers. He wasn't in front of him.

"Yes Stiles, I told you. I'm a thousand years old. You can't kill me," his darker form smirked.

He wrenched his arm to find it sticky and red.

He wanted to ask whose and then he knew.

The mirror cracked down the centre, where he'd driven his fist into it. Small shards still clattering to the ground silently.

"I just cleaned up," Stiles insisted but when he looked back, he realised the blood hadn't been cleaned. He looked at his hands, flexing them to remove the sticky feeling.

"Wh-what was I doing? What HAVE I been doing?" Stiles mind reeled.

The double stepped back to reveal a body on the ground. He was unconscious but didn't seem to show any injuries to why he was out.

"Liam?!" he recognised. As though he commanded it, Liam rolled over to meet his gaze. His face covered in tiny incisions where spots of blood leaked out. Stiles saw the other sleeve, firstly hidden, was also drenched in a dark substance. He lifted it up and found more markings with tiny black specs inside.

Stiles eyes widened at the curious injuries. Then realised he'd done it, with the paper and tweezers. If he'd picked up anything else- Liam may not even be breathing.

His shadow crouched down beside him, he twisted his head to the side. Liam's eyes flashed gold and his body visibly shook. Stiles was glued to the Liam's side.

"Who is this joker Stiles?"

"I'll do whatever you want. Just don't do anything," Stiles asked the other, who looked at him with a sadistic grin.

"You know what we need. Our food, Stiles," he responded, not easing either of the two's words. "Chaos, pain and strife"

"-This is 991 emergencies, what's the situation?"

Stiles whipped his head around for the source but found nothing. Only a fearful Liam and smirking Nogitsune before him.

"-Hello are you there?"

"Call them Stiles. Your friend will need it," the threat was issued and carried out before Stiles eyes. A knife was in the others hand and plunged deep into the werewolf.

"Argh!" Liam had cried out, feeling the silver seeping into his veins. "L-Laced it...Stiles...," Liam struggled.

The Nogitsune looked up from his work at Stiles pitiful form, scrambling away, using the door as leverage to hoist himself to the stairway and grasp the phone.

It rang once as the Nogitsune advanced, "991 what's your emergency?"

"H-Help- I need help-My friend he's-"

"-Do you know anything at all now? On the missing boy?"

"Missing boy? What no, I'm sorry but my friend is bleeding out-"

"I'm sorry we can't be of help. Only use this line for important matters son," the voice hung up. Stiles body was kicked down the stairs. He tumbled down, trying to comprehend the events that have been happening to him.

He didn't even feel the sensation of hitting the ground.

"You know what we want Stiles," another body was above him, clothed in a leather jacket and heaps of bandages. His mouth with pointed teeth, gargling brown liquid being the only features present.

"What do you want?" Stiles panted, reaching to count his fingers. One…two…thr-

Void smirked, "Release me"

The words leapt into his mouth but his protest was stifled, with his own mouth filling with crimson. He forced his head down to avoid choking on the crimson stream.

As he did, he saw the source of his bleeding. The hilt of a sword protruding from his abdomen. His body shook and he processed everything while his blood seeped away from him.

"Chaos has come again," a harsh whisper was in his ear. His shaking body collapsed to the floor slowly.

Stile's form stuck to the ground as the blood cemented him to the ground. Void crouched over him, throwing a hand over his mouth as he suffocated.

* * *

Unrestrained screams, the tearing of his vocal cords awoke him. The body threw themselves upwards, striving for oxygen. Stiles felt bindings and scrambled away, tripping and landing on a familiar scented carpet. He rolled over quickly, breath still rapid in his chest.

Stiles stayed curled in on himself, waiting for the whispers or screams or visions to resume. He sucked in his breath in wait. After a few minutes, he'd realised there was nothing there.

He exhaled as he sat up, checking his body for multiple wounds finding nothing but clean skin. It took a second to realise where he was. He lay back against his covers still curled around his ankles and exhaled again.

He was going to take a trip to see Melissa. These panics were not doing well for his mind or heart. He told himself on a mantra that he was safe and awake and that there was nothing there. He felt comforted by the calls of his best friend bounding up the stairs.

'Nobody can lose it Stiles," the voice jolted him up. The duvets slipped to the ground, his heart pounded as he looked to the source of the whisper.

"What is it?" The voice continued. Stiles counted his fingers while shaking violently. His mind couldn't take much more before it shattered.

"I-I don't-" I stopped. The answer was clear but he refused to confess it. "You're not here. It's gone. All of that is gone"

"Never gone Stiles. Nobody can lose it," the Nogitsune continued.

"Please…stop," Stiles begged the taunting voice. The voice was materialised to his form, his nightmare his nogitsune.

"You can't say anything Stiles. We can kill them. All your friends. Dead," The voice told him. To his relief the door swung open and the demonic vision disappeared to be replaced with his best friend's face.

"Hey Stiles," he greeted. Stiles still shook as he waved at him. Scott didn't appear to see him.

Scott just smiled with a sad look in his eyes, "I was sure you were here"

Stiles blinked, feeling the rush of everything, "Uh dude I'm right here?"

"I can actually imagine you saying that," Scott laughed without mirth.

"Dude, I just did. Listen I've had one weird day and either we need to get out of here or I need to go for a scan and after last time…well…," Stiles trailed off.

"Is it time you need? Space? I could have just given it to you," Scott seemed to continue without his friends input.

"Uh yeah that'd be nice…but first we should get outta here," Stiles spoke carefully, unsure of whether to drag Scott to the hospital also.

Scott sighed, "I need to talk to Stile's dad"

"Uh sure, you do uh do that," Stiles scratched the back of his head in confusion.

"Bye Stiles," Scott wished.

"Uh bye Scotty," Stiles awkwardly responded, looking down at his fingers and counting them to ensure he wasn't still stuck in a dream or worse.

Ten fingers wiggled back at him. He allowed his eyes to roam the room to find nothing was out of the ordinary, even his board filled with crime scene investigations had been untouched.

"But Scott's been acting weird," Stiles decided to follow, leading to the stairway, where he can hear Scott talking with his father.

"Anything?"

"No, nothing," he heard his dad sigh heavily. Stiles looked through the bars and saw his dad had puffy eyes.

"Scott listen, He's been missing for weeks. Weeks and this is the first clue. It usually means the worse but-"

"-They can't do that!"

"I'm afraid they can. I appreciate you all looking but its past the watch. I've been told to tell you to stop"

"I can't do that Sir," Scott spoke with a shake of his head. He looked determined to find whoever the Sherriff needed to catch.

"I know, thank you" he truly was grateful. "We have to find him"

"Hold on," he stopped Scott and answered.

"Yes Deputy-"he stopped, eyes widening and fist clenching the desk. Scott immediately stood up, eyes pleading.

"I-I'll be down there is-is- there a body?" His voice shook.

"Nothing well that-that's …news thanks Parrish, I'll make my way down now," The Sherriff hung up.

"What is it?" Scott pounced.

"They found his jeep in the desert," the Sherriff told him, leaving to grab his keys. Scott turned to face the door, clenching his fists so hard Stiles swore he saw blood leak from his palms.

Stiles walked till the final step, addressing the distressed teenager, "Scott, what are you and dad hiding from me? Who is this person who's so important to you? Did they steal my jeep? I can help, you know I can!"

"Scott, yo Scotty!" He waved a hand in front of his friend's face. When nothing happened he touched his shoulder, only for it to feel strange. Nothing was solid in his grasp, he chalked it up to falling weirdly.

"I'll find you Stiles. One of us has to," Scott whispered at nothing in a broken voice.

"What-what did you say?" he swallowed, stepping away from Scott. "Th-that isn't funny Scott"

"Where are you buddy?" Scott asked nobody in particular, unknowing of Stile's outburst.

"I've got the keys," The Sherriff steers him from the room.

"Dad! Dad I'm right here!" He walks in front of the two. They stopped as though they could hear something, looked around the room then shook their heads, walking around the frantic Stiles.

"Tricks are fun Stiles," That voice called to him again.

"What did you do? Wh-why don't they see me!" this was becoming more and more like a horror movie. One he never had the most desire to press stop on.

"They will see you soon," he told him, "The nogitsune feeds off chaos, strife and pain. Yours Stiles. They're looking for you like before"

"Yeah, but that still doesn't explain why they can't-" he stopped in his tracks, his mouth uttering noises but he can't bring himself to say it.

"You were dying Stiles," The Nogitsune spoke without remorse.

"The hospital scan was a trick," Stiles knew it. He couldn't have the disease; it may have run in the family- Stiles shook his head but the odds of having the exact same test results…it couldn't be possible.

The nogitsune nodded, "So it was"

"Then what?" Stiles challenged, clenching his fists at the sound of the siren and wheels pulling out of the drive way.

"You. You are dying" his double repeated.

"Because of you right?" Stiles was close to hysterical now. Body racing with adrenaline to even notice.

The creature turned to face him with a grin, "Everyone has it, but no one can lose it" The creature edging to him, fingers dancing over the hilt protruding from his abdomen, "what is it Stiles?"

His flesh tore,

His scream shook the house.

* * *

"Stop the car!" Scott's voice rang out, startling the Sherriff. Shocked, the Sherriff sharply turned the wheel, the tyres reacting and skidding on the asphalt to a stop.

He looked angry when he faced the Alpha but stopped at the look in his eyes, "Scott, what is it?"

"It-it's Stiles. I swear. He's at your house," by the wavering tone the Sherriff knew this wasn't some prank or joke and more importantly, he needed to step on it.

His son's life was at stake.

The car parked in the driveway, Scott left the door wide open, scrambling for the keys, punching the door open. The Sherriff following with a gun at his hip.

"Stiles?!" They called out. There was a thud from upstairs, the Sherriff leapt forwards, placing a finger to his lips in Scott's direction.

The sounds stopped and the two descended the stairs in a flurry, two at a time, Scott bursting into the door before the Sherriff reached the landing.

There were obvious signs Stiles had been there. The bed askew with covers spread over the floor. The window half open, half closed the way Stiles had it.

There was no question Stiles had been here, but who else had?

They edged into the bathroom where a trail of red lead them to a blood stained sink. The Sherriff was already barking down the phone but Scott looked closer, his eyes glowing as he sought what went on. Stiles anxiety chemo signals through the roof.

"Stiles was definitely here," he confirmed with a swallow. The Sherriff paused his conversation to look at Scott. He didn't need to ask what had shaken the Alpha.

Circling the broken mirror. Scott stumbled back in horror, eyes flashing a feral colour, releasing a loud howl.

Written in an inky black in between the cracks was a word.

Shadow.


End file.
